


Bath Time

by Therg



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bath Sex, Bathing/Washing, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Therg/pseuds/Therg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Merlin Kink Meme, with the request of "Badly hurt Arthur being taken care of by Merlin"<br/>Arthur gets hurt and Merlin has to take care of him, including bathe him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bath Time

Merlin couldn’t help but cry out as he saw Arthur fall under the griffin’s attack, cursed the cowardly Knights of Camelot as he ran towards the prince; they had all scattered as soon as they saw the beast. He raced forwards, willing the words of a spell to form faster in his mind, as the griffin’s sharp talons were brought down across Arthur’s chest. They shredded his chain mail like it was tissue paper, and ripped into the flesh of his chest. Merlin screamed and the griffin, as well as a few surrounding trees and shrubs, burst into flames.

He ignored the beast’s dying cries as he knelt by Arthur’s side, choking back bile at the sight before him. His little training with Gaius had taught him enough to know that Arthur would not live long in this condition. He longed to be able to heal the prince completely, but knew it would be impossible to explain. Instead he called upon his magic and instinctively set to lessen the wounds, to heal them partially but not totally remove them. Once he felt satisfied that Arthur would be able to survive the quick journey back to the castle Merlin lifted the prince onto his stallion and swiftly rode them back towards the city.

\--

Gaius had recognised what Merlin had done, he knew he had, but the physician had given no indication of it, other than an understanding smile.

He had bandaged Arthur and recommended bed rest, leaving Merlin to tend to him and change the bandage once daily. And to deal with any of Arthur’s ridiculous requests, of course.

\--

The first day would have been simple enough –Arthur slept soundly through it – had Merlin not been filled with anxiety over the prince’s recovery. He left Arthur’s chambers only to give Uther some privacy with his son. He tidied, and re-tidied, the prince’s rooms and polished his boots so thoroughly that he was sure the leather was thinner than it used to be.

But most of all he sat by Arthur’s side, wiping his brow with a cool, damp cloth; he plumped the prince’s pillows, tucked him in, untucked him and ran his fingers carefully through his golden hair.

When the time came to change Arthur’s bandage, Merlin was surprisingly calm. His fingers only trembled a little as then stroked the smooth skin of the prince’s chest, following the thin trail of hairs across his chest and down his stomach –fingers stopping just short of where they disappeared into his breeches.

The wound itself wasn’t nearly as bad as he had expected – it was still red and raw, a painful contrast to the pale skin surrounding it. It ran from Arthur’s shoulder and down, jaggedly crossing his chest, ending just below his navel. Merlin carefully applied one of Gaius’ salves, fingers shaking a little more here, and carefully wound fresh bandages around the prince. Once this was done he moved to the end of the bed, sitting down and leaning his head against one of the corner posts.

\--

The second day was a little better than the first, nerve wise. Arthur was mostly awake and delighted in waking Merlin up by kicking Merlin off the bed, protesting that he was snoring.

Merlin spent much of this day running between the prince’s chambers and Gaius’, fetching potions and medicines that might relieve some of the pain that Arthur was in – or, as Merlin put it, at least send him back to sleep so he’d shut up and stop complaining.

Arthur wasn’t the easiest of patients, he wasn’t used to being off his feet – wasn’t used to not being able to do anything.

Merlin had put off changing the prince’s bandages, hoping he’d fall asleep – Merlin tried to convince himself that it would be easier this way, just because he wouldn’t have to listen to Arthur whine or flinch, but he longed to trace his fingers over the prince’s flesh again. He put it off for so long that, when he finally decided that Arthur wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon, he had to light the candles beside the bed to see what he was doing.

To give him due credit, Arthur only winced once or twice as Merlin carefully unwrapped the bandages; although he did close his eyes and bite his lip when Merlin had rubbed the healing salve over his chest.

The boy had noticed this and apologised, “I’m sorry – I’m trying to be as gentle as possible, I’ll try not to take long.”

Arthur just nodded and bit back a moan as Merlin’s long fingers brushed over his stomach.

 

That night Merlin slept curled up, on the end of the prince’s bed again.

\--

The third day had Arthur much more cheerful, almost his usual self once again. He set menial, boring, tasks to complete around his chambers and was not too ill to forget to insult him playfully.

Arthur wanted a bath. And what the crowned prince wanted, he got.

Merlin filled the tub with steaming water, thankful that the prince was still in bed and couldn’t witness the magic used. He was always amazed at the size of the bath, it could easily have held half his village – well, maybe not, but a couple of them at least.

He helped Arthur up, and into the bath. He hoped that the prince hadn’t noticed the amount of time his eyes lingered on his naked body as he helped him out of his nightshirt and breeches. 

Arthur hissed as the hot water stung the fresh wound, curling his fingers around the side of the tub almost painfully. 

“No soap”, he gasped, “Just water.”

Merlin just nodded and picked up the sponge, soaking it he started to work gently at Arthur’s shoulders, washing away the grime and sweaty stains of the past few days. As his fingers trailed over the prince’s collar bone, he was surprised to see him shaking, he was about to ask him about it when Arthur’s voice interrupted his thought process.

“Merlin,” it sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth, “I can’t hold myself up – it hurts.”

Looking down the prince’s arms, he could see the fingers gripping the side of the bath painfully, knuckles white and blotchy with the effort.  
Merlin was about to ask what he should do when Arthur suddenly disappeared, slipping under the water. Without stopping to think Merlin leant over the side and pulled him up again, hands wrapped carefully around his shoulders.

Arthur was gasping, coughing water up from his lungs and Merlin just held him for a while, waiting.

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was weak and grating, “Could you – You’ll have to.. Get in behind me, hold me up?”

Merlin wasn’t sure if it was a question or a command, but thought it best to obey. Willing that Arthur had enough strength to hold himself up he rid himself of his clothes as quickly as he could, only briefly getting tangled in his shirt. He slid easily into the water and pulled Arthur to him; leaning the prince’s head against his shoulder, who, in return, hummed his comfort.

Merlin shivered as he felt the vibrations through his chest, glad of the little space around his groin, the heat and close proximity of Arthur’s.. well, Arthur’s nakedness, was getting more aroused than he would have been comfortable to reveal.

He dutifully washed the prince’s body, taking special care of the gash across his front, not sure if the noises that the prince was making were of approval or discomfort. But then everything changed, as his right hand was rubbing the sponge along Arthur’s upper thigh, his left hand was helping to hold the prince upright, he brushed an unmistakeable hardness.

Arthur whimpered and turned his head towards Merlin’s neck, his nose brushing against Merlin’s ear, making the boy shiver at the sound of his breath. Merlin dropped the sponge, bringing a single finger to run up the prince’s length instead, slowly circling the head and dipping inside the slit.

He couldn’t hold back his chuckle as Arthur gripped his thighs with both hands, nails digging in almost painfully. In response, Merlin slowly began to stroke two fingers over Arthur’s cock, slowly, teasingly. When Arthur’s grip tightened in protest he wrapped his fist around the length and pumped it with three slow strokes, enjoying the soft moans in his ear.

He released the prince’s cock, ignoring the feeble growl of protest and shifted him, moving his legs and lifting the prince so that he sat on Merlin’s thighs, back pressed flush against his chest.

Merlin took advantage of this position and allowed his fingers to trail down, towards Arthur’s entrance, the prince’s breath hitching as he realised where they were heading, slowly he circled one finger before sliding it easily inside him.

Surprised at the lack of resistance, he growled into the prince’s ear, “Arthur… You’re not as tight as I thought you’d be…” He slipped the finger out of the prince, and pushed two back inside him with his next words, more satisfied with the resistance here. “Do you whore yourself out to the knights?”

Arthur gasped, clutching tighter at Merlin’s thighs, “You can’t talk to me like that – ohgodMerlin – I’m a-a a prince.” His protest was feeble, stuttered and interrupted as Merlin curled his fingers to brush against the prince’s prostate. 

“No?” He bent his neck to bite at the prince’s neck and murmured against the wet skin, “How come you’re so loose then, your highness?”

Arthur’s reply was choked as Merlin scissored his fingers, “Candle… I – god, Merlin, don’t make me say it, please…”

Merlin worked a third finger inside him and pressed against his prostate again, delighting in the unintelligible noises that the prince was making, “Tell me. I want to hear you say it.”

Arthur’s cheeks burned, he moved his mouth closer to Merlin’s ear and whispered, hoarsely, “Fuck myself. I fuck myself with the candle next to my bed.”

Merlin couldn’t hold back his groan and his fingers sped up inside the prince, he growled out his next question: “And did you think of me?”

“Yes!” Arthur sounded hysterical, Merlin’s fingers were driving him mad, “Every night, thought of you… Wished… Pretended it was you.”

Merlin growled, more like a crazed animal than obedient servant, and pulled his fingers out of the prince, ignoring the whine of protest. He lifted Arthur up, holding him closer to himself, and pulled him smoothly down and onto his hard, ready cock. 

Merlin couldn’t hold back the feeling of pride as Arthur whimpered as he stretched him, better than any candle, better than he could ever have imagined. He paused for a moment then thrust up experimentally, grunting at the way in which the prince’s flesh gripped him. 

He grabbed one of Arthur’s hands and brought it down to his hard cock. Merlin wrapped his around it firsts and encouraged Arthur to wrap his hand around Merlin’s.

“Show me, teach me, how you like it.”

Arthur bucked his hips up at these words, and Merlin moved his other arm to wrap around his waist and grip his hips, holding him tightly down.

Arthur began to move their hands, stroking in unison, the pace he set was fast and unforgiving and Merlin matched it with each thrust of his hips, whispering encouragement in response to each of Arthur’s – rather unprincely-like – whimpers.

Merlin knew that Arthur was close, he could tell by each of his heavy pants of breath, the jerky movements of his hand and the way in which he was calling out the boy’s name. He angled his hips slightly and thrust harder, brushing against the prince’s prostate and eliciting a strangled moan from him.

Merlin did this again, and once more, and then Arthur was tightening around him and he could feel the cock beneath his hand pulsing, he thrust twice more into the price and then spilled himself, biting down on his neck and gripping Arthur’s hand, entwining their fingers together.

As they came down from their orgasms, Merlin supported Arthur once more, nuzzling his nose into the prince’s neck. He can tell that the prince has fallen asleep, his chest rising rhythmically, and he is loath to wake him.


End file.
